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Prologue
Brown and blue.
Like earth and air.
That’s the first thing I notice about the stranger’s eyes as he brushes past me in the crowded club, forcing his way through the throng of gyrating bodies around us.
For a moment, I think it must be a trick of the light, an illusion caused by the flashing strobes that pulse in time to the heavy beat of the music.
But when one of the bright white lights cuts through the haze that hangs over the dancers and illuminates his face, I realize I’m not wrong.
The man’s left eye is a rich chocolate brown, but the right is made up of two different colors. One half of the iris is the same deep brown as the left, but the other half is a clear blue, like the sky on a cloudless day.
Earth and air.
It’s strange but beautiful.
There’s something so fucking mesmerizing about it that I find myself unable to look away, jostled roughly by the dancers around me as my own body stops moving entirely.
I’m ogling him in a way that’s neither subtle nor polite, and he must feel my shameless stare because his gaze flicks down to meet mine for a brief second.
His brows twitch, drawing together slightly.
Our gazes lock, and a strange thrill passes through me, as if something both cold and hot has brushed over my skin.
Then the thick press of bodies shifts, and he slips away through the crowd, followed by two dark shadows—men almost as tall and imposing as he is.
“Holy fuck, Ayla! That guy was sooo hot!”
Monica screams the words in my ear as she grabs my arm, and I wince at the shrill sound of her voice. Just because the music around us is louder than fuck, it doesn’t mean I want this girl’s high-pitched scream implanted directly into my earhole.
I nod, trying to turn my grimace into some kind of smile.
“And his friends. Oh my god, did you see his friends? Holy shit! They might’ve been even hotter than he was!”
Her voice jumps up another notch in pitch and volume, and I draw away from her a little, yanking my arm out of her clawing grasp. I didn’t really get a clear view of the guy’s two companions, but if they looked anything like he did, I’m not surprised she’s drooling over them too.
“So, are you gonna go get up on that or what?” She leans closer to yell into my ear again before pulling away and sticking her tongue out lasciviously as she gyrates to the music. “’Cause if you don’t, I totally fucking will.”
A sharp bite of irritation takes me by surprise. There’s no way I’m gonna go grind up on some guy I don’t even know like half the girls in this club are doing, even though they look like they’re having the time of their lives. That’s just not my style. But the idea that Monica might go do it makes me irrationally angry.
Ugh. Why the hell do I care? What the fuck am I even doing here anyway?
I don’t quite know why I accepted this girl’s invitation to go out dancing with her and a few other kids from school. I’ve only been at Anderson High for a couple months—I switched schools when I got sent to live with a new foster family—and I haven’t exactly gone out of my way to get chummy with the student body.
